


Fever Dream

by quietdragon



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime)
Genre: F/M, Fever, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Paralysis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-13 00:08:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5686930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietdragon/pseuds/quietdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Georgia rescues and nurses to health an uncooperative, but presently paralyzed Trip. While she's starting to have second thoughts about saving the prideful brat, the Dragon Buster learns a little more about the solitary trainer from their conversation. Flarebustershipping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fever Dream

“Like I already said, I don’t need your help.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome, princess.”

An unamused glare shot from under the arm keeping his blonde hair out of his eyes ineffectively bounced off of the girl’s hat, until it finally withered away into the an apathetic, somewhat unfocused stare. She continued tying off the plastic bag now filled with newly-frozen ice-water. “Thank you, Vanilluxe,” she said much more sweetly than her earlier sarcastic response.

Noting the change in demeanor, the boy mouthed the words mockingly. If he could move, there’d be some exaggerated hair-toss for good measure, but for better or worse, he was stuck lying flat on the ground, capable of nothing more than weaker-than-average insults and stubbornly misplaced pride.

“So, Trip, are you always this Krabby when someone saves your life or am I just special?”

“I wasn’t going to die, Georgia.”

Clipped words, but Georgia was undeterred, carrying on in a casual, conversational tone.

“Could’ve fooled me, I thought Beartic stumbled on some messed-up, glittery crime scene until I saw the Amoonguss and realized even geniuses make rookie mistakes sometimes. Like forgetting to pack salveyo weeds.”

Trip pressed his lips together in a very long, very tight straight line, clearly offended at being compared to the average beginning trainer (although that’s what the boy was, to be fair), but lacked the strength to really hold his head high in an affronted display. More damage to his already quite wounded pride.

Georgia imagined that her rescue of him hurt him more than the fever and paralysis. But she couldn’t have left him there, not out in the wilderness, where he was defenseless to anyone or anything that would want to hurt more than just his pride, so she wasn’t too sympathetic.

Figuring her makeshift ice-bag had least gone a step down from Antarctic winter, she wrapped it in some cloth and placed it his forehead.

If Trip had been planning on making a case against Georgia’s earlier accusation, the sudden chill intercepts whatever thought process he might have had, as his eyes shoot wide open and he grits his teeth, but can’t so much as turn his head away.

“What the–”

“Sorry, this is the weakest Vanilluxe can manage. I don’t really have any Fire Types on me to make sure it’s just right, okay?” she managed to say, with a bit of a twitch to her brow. Really, did she make the right decision helping this kid? He was an ungrateful brat.

But Trip was having none of her explanation, eyes screwed shut and struggling against his unresponsive body. “W-w-why would you put ice on someone in the first place?!”

His struggling was quickly going from pitiful enough to compel her to take care of him to very quickly irritating her enough to make her consider hauling him to the nearest center and dumping him in the doorway, but the question just blindsides her.

“… what? It’s an ice-bag. Cold compress. You’ve never had a fever before?” she asked, slowly, not because she was choosing her words, but because she was still mentally recovering from the shock of Trip apparently having no idea what a cold compress was.

“Of course, I have!” Trip gave in, thoroughly exhausted. “But I just took a pill or slept it off like a normal person.”

“… normal–” she stopped herself, deciding that it wasn’t worth it. “Even when you were little?”

“Yeah. What difference does it make, a fever’s the same whether you’re big or small, right?”

There was nothing she could say to that. Imagining him as a small child, enduring a fever in bed until it subsided on its own without anyone keeping him cool was nothing short of depressing. He was still an awful brat, but she had a whole new group of people to blame for it.

She began tugging off one of her gloves and now Trip eyed that warily too.

“What’s that for?”

“Checking your temperature.” She gently removed the arm that had been flung over his face since she found him; it fell away surprisingly easily, limp as a doll, now that the rigors were leaving with the salveyo weed’s effect.

“Uh, don’t you need a thermometer… wait, where’s that goi–”

He stopped talking, freezing up and, unbelievably, turning even redder in the face when the bare back of her hand pressed against his head, her skin comfortably cool against his own. She looked down at him as she leaned over and found him staring wide-eyed, blue-grey eyes blinking owlishly, not saying a word, blonde hair splayed out around him.

He looked red and splotchy and clearly sick, but despite all of that, she found herself thinking she never really realized how cute he was or how soft his hair seemed to be (that choppy, dated haircut really didn’t do it any favours). She wanted to run her fingers through it, almost, but then remembered he couldn’t really stop her even if he wanted to and he was sick. He was sick and she was taking care of him, doing something like that would just be inappropriate and taking advantage of the situation.

Besides, it was completely unlike her! Where did that thought even come from? And about _Trip_ , of all people?!

She quickly sat back up, sitting firmly at his side now, straightened her back a bit too rigidly, and cleared her throat, careful not to even brush against him. “There, see? You’re burning hot, so an ice-bag would help bring down your temperature and make you feel a lot better.”

He blinked, then, slowly, a lopsided smile tugged at just one corner of his lips (did he always smile like that? She never really cared to notice before), and said, “I think I prefer your hands, actually.”

Crap, did he read her mind somehow? That smile was nasty and the look in his eyes was clearly teasing, he’s making fun of her, isn’t he? Is this for all the princess jokes she lobbed at him while he was being difficult? Did she blush? Oh, she hoped she didn’t blush! That’d put such a dent in her image…

Play it smart, she tried to reason with herself. He’s not a mind-reader, play it off!

“What, calling me cold? Is this the thanks I get?” Georgia smirked back. “Sorry, but just because I train Ice Types doesn’t mean I’m a decent substitute for an ice-bag.”

She wasn’t going to let some kid who couldn’t even sit up act like he was the one with the upper hand here.

“… it’s okay this time, but, next time, if you don’t have any Pokemon with more… variable Ice Type attacks, I have a Vanillite in my right pant pocket.”

Georgia blinked, looking surprised. She tried to read the boy’s face for a tell of a joke, but it had slipped back into tired, inexpression.

“I didn’t know you had a Vanillite.”

“I didn’t know you had a Vanilluxe.”

After mirroring her confused statement, he turned his eyes to look where Vanilluxe floated, cheerfully watching. Georgia moved the ice-bag back onto his head and he endured with significantly less panicking this time, although he still shut his eyes tightly and grit his teeth behind his lips. He wasn’t very tough at all, for all that confidence.

“Yeah, well, I don’t use Vanilluxe when I’m going to battle Dragon Type Trainers, this girl’s got a problem that makes her impossible to use as a Dragon Buster.”

“Hm?”

Vanilluxe continued to float cheerfully and passively, seemingly not caring about what was being said. Trip didn’t seem to want to look away, despite how hard it was to watch it from that angle.

“… what? I’m not telling you, it’s a really silly problem you aren’t even gonna believe,” she concluded.

“… Try me. I’ll believe you.”

“Suit yourself, but don’t bring it up anywhere.”

He finally looked away from Vanilluxe, briefly, to give her a wry, withering stare, brows raised as if in a silent “really?”

Right, who was he going to talk to anyway? Did Trip even have friends?

“Right. She’s got a thing for younger boys, especially Dragon Types. She goes crazy over them and chases after them instead of battling.”

Trip, still watching the carelessly confident Vanilluxe, slowly shifted into an incredulous expression.

“That’s– that’s really weird.”

Georgia reached over to turn his head, adjusting the ice-bag as she did, so he could watch Vanilluxe more easily. Trip was surprised by the action, but made no protest, secretly enjoying the contact. Besides, he had wanted to watch Vanilluxe some more…

“So, what’s Vanillite’s story?”

“I don’t use mine in tournaments either. Vanillite’s newly hatched, although I’m training it for strength and endurance, so it won’t be like that forever.”

“You raised a Vanillite from an egg?” she asked, amusement clear in her voice.

It was hard to picture Trip carefully taking care of an egg or dealing with a young and curious baby Pokemon.

“Hope you didn’t scare it too much with that attitude of yours.” Georgia had said it teasingly, but she couldn’t help thinking he’d raise a rather gloomy child, with his attitude and what he saw as normal, so she couldn’t really hold herself back from wanting to meet this little Pokemon, just to be sure it wasn’t as bad off as she thought. She lifted the corner of his jacket away from his hip to expose his pocket and fished out a pokeball.

“This one?” she held it in front of his face.

“No, the other one.”

“Right.”

She selected the other one and gave it a toss. “Come out, Vanillite?”

In a shower of sparks, a small, beaming face greeted her. In less than a second, Vanillite was pressed up against her face, its friendly, toothless smile filling Georgia’s vision. “Wah!” she scrambled backwards from the overly-enthusiastic little Pokemon, blinking twice at the Pokemon who did the same, before looking confused and disappointed.

Trip opened his mouth to say something, looking somewhat annoyed, but Georgia quickly rectified the situation. “Sorry, just got surprised– you’re very cute, aren’t you?”

That worked perfectly well for Vanillite, who flitted happily around, left and right, leaving a shower of delicate snowflakes glittering as they descended and melted on contact with the sun-warmed grass.

Not a gloomy child by any means, Vanillite seemed a perfectly cheerful and friendly little Pokemon, quickly floating over to Vanilluxe and admiring the evolved Pokemon, who decided to show off a bit for the younger Pokemon too. Georgia looked at Trip watching the two Pokemon getting along and realized how little she knew about the boy. He must take good care of his Pokemon for Vanillite to be this friendly and happy… and the truth is, she couldn’t hate someone too much if they had an Ice Type, especially an unusually cute one like Vanillite.

“Seems well-raised,” she started, a bit awkwardly, but it wasn’t she expected a better opportunity to say this later.

“Thanks.”

Well, even if he didn’t compliment her Pokemon back, she can see that he likes it and that’s good enough for her. Removing the now largely melted ice-bag, she looked back at the small Pokemon now hovering with a worried expression over its trainer and blowing little puffs of cold air over him. “What attacks can Vanillite use?”

“Ice Beam, Icicle Spear, Ice Shard, Blizzard… last one would be overkill, though.”

So, it’s her call, then? The young Pokemon looks at her with a still-worried, but expectant look.

“Can you you use Ice Beam to freeze just the water in this bag, Vanillite? Just a little bit.”

Vanillite nods after considering it for a moment and then freezes the water carefully, leaving some pockets unfrozen. Georgia smiled appreciatively, gaze the Pokemon a pat on the snowy-soft tuft, and tied off the bag.

“Thank you!” She placed it back on Trip’s head, after turning his head back upright. He didn’t fuss at all, this time.

“… thanks, Georgia.”

She was surprised to actually hear him say it, but he said it very simply, so that if she hadn’t been paying attention to his words, she wouldn’t have realized it was something so uncharacteristic.

“Huh.” She couldn’t really stop herself before she already made that sound, but really, who could blame her? It wasn’t everyday that someone got to witness Trip being grateful. Maybe she should’ve grabbed his camera to take a commemorative picture. Or maybe it was just more to prove she had this kid pegged all wrong from the start… he’s a lot kinder and warmer up-close, frosty and aloof demeanor put aside.

The lengthy silence after her initially incredulous response must’ve made Trip regret saying anything, because he retreated back into himself and resumed staring at the sky with unfocused eyes, possibly embarrassed. She felt a bit bad for it and leaving the silence hanging any longer clearly wasn’t going to make the situation. “Like I said, I couldn’t just leave you out there. You’re not that bad.”

“Thanks.” He didn’t sound convinced, which prompted Georgia to crawl back over, hanging her head over his so he could see her. Still humiliated and upset, he just frowned and tried his best to look away and ignore her, but Georgia was undeterred.

“No, really, I mean it! You’re not a bad person. It’s true I didn’t really care for your attitude before, but now, I’m thinking we could get along. You’re kind to your Pokemon, you’re strong–”

At that, Trip made a strange, short sound like choking. She stopped talking right there, looking him over, worried that his condition might’ve worsened somehow, but his expression looked more quietly grieved and humiliated, he didn’t look like he was hurting from anything physically. But she couldn’t figure out what she said to prompt this kind of reaction, so she started a bit hesitantly, “Hey, you alright? … Trip?”

Vanillite, concerned for its trainer, floats closer to his side, wondering why he looked so upset. It gave Georgia a questioning look, which made her feel guilty even though she didn’t really know what was wrong. All she could do was shrug uselessly at the scared little Pokemon. Vanilluxe tried to offer some support, gently bobbing next to it, but Vanillite wouldn’t budge, watching its trainer.

“How can you say that?” Trip finally managed to say in a strained, weak voice. “Strong? … when you’ve seen me like this?”

She couldn’t believe it. He could’ve starved to death or wound up prey to whatever found him first and he was still up on his pride. Just why did he cling to it so desperately?! Letting him get all torn-up over this couldn’t be good for his health, his fever only broke a little while ago, so she tried to calm him down.

“Hey, relax. You’re sick, it doesn’t make you weak–”

“I am weak! I feel weak. I can’t protect anything or even take care of myself, my body won’t listen to me, and without strength, I’m nothing.”

This earned an angry look from Georgia, as well as a lot of loud protesting from Vanillite, who floated into view, surprising him.

“You really shouldn’t talk about yourself like that. Even your Pokemon knows it’s wrong. And you know what that tells me? You’re not someone who treats Pokemon like they’re only good for battling. … you don’t think of your Pokemon as weaklings if they lose or get poisoned or burned, right?”

Vanillite shook its head with a very indignant frown, Trip replying a bit more slowly, by Georgia’s impassioned speech, “um, no…”

“Then, the same goes for you. You’re a lot more than your strength, so stop acting like that.”

Vanillite sighs in relief and settles next to Trip’s shoulder, nestling its head on the cloth of his hoodie.

He can’t turn to look at Vanillite or hold it even if he wanted to, so he just sighs, but Georgia’s words and his Pokemon’s presence are enough to calm him down.

“… I’m sorry, Vanillite. Georgia, too. I guess the fever got to my head.”

“Definitely.”

“But, I did want to tell you something.”

“Me?” Georgia looked surprised.

“… this is going to sound really pathetic and dumb, and I know anybody can get sick and need help, but I was still scared. I couldn’t stand the idea of being too weak to move and relying on someone else, a complete stranger, to do everything I normally did myself, so I didn’t get help. I thought I could get to the water to look for a cure, but I didn’t. I still thought I was better off that way. I’m sorry I gave you so much trouble when you were trying to help me, I thought for sure you’d want to dump me off at a hospital soon as you could, but… you didn’t.

"You took care of me the whole time.”

His voice sounded very quiet, very grateful, and very tired. It took that for Georgia to realize how long she’d been taking care of him and that was night was falling, the first stars starting to dot along the darkening sky.

“I’d have dumped you if you really needed it, though. If you got any sicker than this, they can have you,” Georgia smirked, then added, “It’s cool. I don’t know what your deal is and I’m not going to act like I get it, but I’m glad you understand I’m just trying to help. I’m not leaving you behind, okay? I’ll stay right here with you until you can move again.”

He gave her another crooked, half-smile and she couldn’t help thinking that it was ridiculously cute.

She used to think he just looked smug, but she could see now all his smiles were crooked, even when he was really happy. With his hair all splayed out like that, he was kind of like a cute Lillipup. She wanted to ruffle his hair, but held back.

“It’s getting late and I’m feeling tired… I’m a lot better now, I don’t think I’ll need another one of your ice… things, so Vanillite and Vanilluxe should get some rest. You too.”

Georgia nodded and recalled Vanilluxe and Vanillite, although she felt a tiny bit bad for sending the little one away while it was sleeping, still curled up next to its trainer.

Georgia spread out her sleeping-bag, right next to Trip’s, to make it easier to look after him, and set her bag at the top to use as a pillow. She sprawled out lazily, stretching noisily (more than a few joints popped with satisfying _cracks_ , much to Trip’s horror– well, he’d just have to deal with it, she’s been hunched over him half the day!), before she clasped her hands behind her head and leaned back into her makeshift pillow.

When she opened her eyes, she found Trip watching her out of the corner of one eye. He didn’t even look away or act like it wasn’t intentional, he just kept on watching her brazenly, in an undisturbed calm. She was so caught off-guard, she almost wanted to give him a little smack upside the head or loudly ask him what he was staring but, but… she didn’t. Instead, she just felt flustered and hoped it didn’t show. If she read something into it, it’d make things awkward, she can’t accuse him without making it sound like she saw something in him, so she’d just have to relax, he’s just looking… it didn’t mean anything…

Oh, his hair looked different in this light. Even when it’s dark out, instead of going dark like everything, the strands shone like moonbeams.

Moonbeams?! Since when did she ever describe anything like that– oh no, did she say it out loud? That was definitely a smirk, she did, didn’t she?! He’s not going to trust her again, he might not accept anybody’s help again, if she says weird stuff like that, she’s supposed to be helping him get better not leering at him because he’s pretty like she’s taking advantage of the situation– wait, wasn’t he the one staring in the first place?!

Seemingly satisfied with the guilty confusion Georgia had worked herself into, Trip shut his eyes.

“Good night, Georgia.”

“… good night.”

Just a bit grumpily, she reclined into her bag again, zipping up her sleeping-bag. She realized she’d left Trip’s open, as the hand she’d moved away from his face was poking out, lying on the ground between them. Looks like she was going to have to tuck him in. She quietly sat up and reached over to pick up his hand, but Trip’s fingers unexpectedly intertwined with hers. Momentarily mute, she looked to his face for a hint, but there was no change in expression, his eyes were closed and his face perfectly neutral, as if he were asleep already.

Ridiculously smooth, but she wasn’t going to believe it just coincidentally turned out that way.

“Trip,” she began in a poorly-restrained, quiet fury. “How long have you been able to move?”

“When I told you about why I didn’t want to go to the hospital, I realized I could stop the shaking at will, so the paralysis was already wearing off. But watching you get so embarrassed was so much fun, I stayed still. Besides, I figured it’d be nice to feel your hands on me for a little longer, even if I had to play sick to do it.”

Of all the conniving…! She was going to give him a piece of her mind, but his hand in hers felt warm and whole, so she didn’t want to give it up. Not letting him off the hook, she bit the finger of her other glove and tugged it off, before closing both her hands around his, earning a surprised flushing of his face in response. He even squirmed, Georgia noted in satisfaction; she could feel his fingers curl in between her palms.

Not so above it all, now, was he? He wasn’t used to being touched at all, so even if he’d gotten daring enough to grab her hand, it was still incredibly easy to embarrass him. 

“You didn’t have to go do something so complicated. You could’ve just asked.”

 

She lay back down on her side, with a casual and all-too-cheerful “good night!” and slept comfortably while Trip half-buried his face in the cover of his sleeping-bag, facing the goofily-dreaming redhead, his hand still caught in both of hers, the heat now climbing into his face another matter entirely.

 


End file.
